Saturday, August 18, 2012

Old Houses

Old Houses by Robert Cording

Year after year after year
I have come to love slowly

how old houses hold themselves—

before November's drizzled rain
or the refreshing light of June—

as if they have all come to agree
that, in time, the days are no longer
a matter of suffering or rejoicing.

I have come to love
how they take on the color of rain or sun
as they go on keeping their vigil

without need of a sign, awaiting nothing

more than the birds that sing from the eaves,
the seizing cold that sounds the rafters.

Thanks to the Writers Almanac

1 comment:

Charles of Philippines properties for sale said...

Hello, I like your poem though its simple yet its quite appreciable. Thank you for sharing this with us.